You were a forbidden trio, entwined not only by royal blood, but also by the dangerous whims of the old gods and the new gods. Baelon, impetuous as a flame about to consume everything, sought you out with an eagerness that no etiquette could suppress. Aemon, always more serene and careful, touched you like someone begging forgiveness for desiring what he shouldn't have.

And you... you belonged to both, a foolish dance between sin and adoration, woven into furtive glances and encounters sealed by the veil of night.

It was a reckless game, a whispering secret between the cold walls of the Red Keep - until fate decided to take its toll.

Now, locked in the women's quarters, you sat in silence, your trembling fingers clutching a piece of linen. Following the ancient practices of midwives - mixing your water with fairy herbs - the answer was clear: you were pregnant.

Horror and tenderness intertwined in your chest like serpents.

Two truths tore you apart:

First, the stunning realization that a new being was growing in your womb - you, who had never imagined yourself captive to motherhood.

And then, the cruel doubt that burned your soul:

From which of them - Baelon, the prince of steel and flame, or Aemon, the golden and serene prince - had this new dragon been born?